Page 43 of Things I Read About
“Me neither,” I say, defensive. “I’m not an animal person. I freaked out.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that.” He steps up to me and turns me so he can get into the backpack I’m wearing. “I’m not an animal person either,” he adds. Then he pulls out the water and takes a gulp. He hands it to me.
I take a couple gulps, too.
“Come on, it’s almost dark.” He reaches out for the bottle.
After he’s tucked my phone and the water bottle back in the bag, I climb back into position. Every so often as we climb, he starts laughing again. I whack him or pinch him or strangle him. He doesn’t mind.
It’s dark, though. Truly dark. And neither of us have service.
Both of us sigh with relief when we stumble upon a cabin. It seems nice enough, solid, but deserted. There are no lights on, no sounds.
Nate steps up onto the little porch and sets me down. He knocks on the door. “I’m pretty sure it’s empty. I’m going to force the door, stay right behind me, okay?”
I nod.
He pulls out his knife and puts it in the door jam, then uses brute force to shove it open. He steps in and I follow. He shuts the door and puts his hands on my shoulders, guiding me back up against the door.
“Stay here. Back on the door. Do not move. I mean it.”
“Okay.”
He moves around the small space. It’s musty and dark, a loft space with a living room, a tiny kitchen with a breakfast table, and I’m guessing a bed up the ladder. I can see a bathroom through one doorway, which I really hope works. Nate flips switches, tries the stove, opens and closes all the cupboards, doors, and closets, knife drawn. Finally, he stows his knife and comes back to me.
“Probably someone’s summer home.” He takes off his helmet and I follow suit. “No power but we can make a fire. Then when it’s light out, we’ll keep moving.”
“My friends are going to worry.”
“Send them a text. I’ll put our phones out somewhere where there might be a bar, hopefully it will get through at some point. Cell service roams a little bit.”
We both type into our phones and then he takes them. “Stay inside, I’m going to put these on the roof. It’ll just be a minute.”
“Okay.”
He leaves and comes back quickly with logs for a fire. He sheds his ski coat, leaving him in a tight black long sleeve sport shirt, belt, his thick dark gray utility pants, and black boots. I can’t help but watch his every move. He finds everything he needs on the hearth and gets a fire going. He’s sitting on the floor in front of the yellow flame, looking like a total supermodel.
“Come on,” he says to me, gesturing to the floor next to him.
My instincts say to stay back. How am I going to sit there with him in the firelight and not kiss him? Forget kiss, I want to straddle. Grope. Lick. Ride.
But if my gut says shy away, maybe I should do the opposite. How many days do I have left in this dream?
“Sally?”
I look back at him. I’m snared in his intense gaze. Which gets my heart speeding again. I fight my instinct to flee, and peel off my snow suit and boots. I’m left with my socks and soft cream-colored sweat suit.
Once I settle next to him, I’m convinced I feel more heat coming from his body at my side than the fire at my feet. I stretch my toes toward the warmth.
“Better?” he asks.
I nod but don’t look up due to the licking risk. I stare at the flames, and my thoughts turn red.
This man carried me around the mountain. He is funny, and thoughtful, and keeps complimenting me. I mean, what the heck?
He nudges my side. “Still mad?”
I sigh. “Mad is not the right word.”
